


Jumble

by smolder



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman, Kim Possible (Cartoon), Stargate Atlantis, Teen Titans (Animated Series)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-06
Updated: 2013-12-06
Packaged: 2018-01-03 15:48:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1072282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smolder/pseuds/smolder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Dana wishes that were not all, she wants to do more - she wants to help them – but there seems to be nothing she can do but live these moments of their lives, experience it with them. And perhaps that is all that she is meant to be doing, bearing witness. (And sometimes Dana wonders if they can feel her right there with them, hopes her presences offers some comfort.)"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. part one: head and heart

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This is a Wishlist fic that came from a prompt provided by SongBirdie.  
> A/N 2: Reviews are Good. This has been a subtle hint from the author - Please return to your regularly scheduled reading.

She isn’t crazy – she isn’t.

 

Dana hunches down near the corner of the closed door, eyes wide and darting for anyone who may come down this hallway and see her. She will get up if that happens, run off – pretend she was just wandering _(when people think one is crazy, random meandering walks become an almost expected past time – at least when you are not caged. And in a place run by fellow Slayers, they allow her this freedom._ ) But, for now she stays in place, tense and listening – because the whisperings in the next room are about her and Dana _will_ hear these things (even if she must eaves drop - _shhh, don’t’ tell_ ).

 

 

And their words are troubling to her, make her bite her lip and pull her arms around herself. They are trying to find a way to help her, to fix her. Dana isn’t sure she _wants_ to be fixed. Doesn’t believe she is broken ( _head and heart – all intact, she’s just fine. Right?)._

 

 

It was all so confusing when she was in that psychiatric ward. The white walls would press in on her, and doctors in white coats came in to press even further: with questions that made no sense and needles that she would watch wide-eyed as they slid into her skin - and then everything would _spin spin spin_. When Dana had gotten out, it was as if she was raw all over, just so much red meat without any skin. Feeling things everywhere, in all of her senses, both with her body and in her mind. How long had they been deadening everything with the drugs? ( _Why had they stopped then? That hadn't been when things changed. Dana remembers that moment clearly, remembers a voice asking if she wanted to be strong._ ) She did not know how to cope with all of this stimulus – no, it was too much, way too much.

 

 

( _So, perhaps – just maybe – she went a little crazy then_.)

 

 

But they can’t blame her for that, can they? Were they mad about the people in the ward that she harmed? Dana tries to feel badly about that ( _flashes of blood on white walls and her hand wrapped tightly around the handle of a bone saw come to her sometimes_ ) but simply cannot – hates the way she would feel after they gave her medication, the way they used to strap her down, how she was kept locked in a cell at all times. She knows it is bad to kill people ( _has had that repeated to her slowly, by many people, as if she has the mental capacity of a very small child_ ) but can’t make herself feel sorry for their deaths.

 

 

Or is it the vampire? Spike – Dana can't help but know this name because she had heard it brought up so many times when they speak of her in those worried tones, far more than any other. She feels very frustrated by this – thinks perhaps she is missing something or they have forgotten they should tell her. Because why should it be so important that she hurt the vampire that killed two of their own?

 

 

Dana remembers so clearly experiencing the way Xin Rong had felt triumph blooming in her chest as she pinned him to the wall – only to have everything slip away from her. (" _Tell my mother I'm sorry," she mouths along with the memory.)_

 

 

And Nikki ( _so brave and strong_ ) had only begun to fear William the Bloody when she could see her death fast approaching – knew she was not going to win this fight, would not be returning home today. The way a sense of impending harsh loss had rushed over her ( _oh God - Robin. I’m never going to see Robin again_ ).

 

 

This was all mixed up with her own story, playing on repeat and changing every time. She is not certain how much they know about her – and Dana does not like to think about it herself whenever she can help it. Everything tends to get so twisted up in knots anyway _(twists her all up too, until she is hunched in a ball remembering what that man did – and then they stare again with those uncertain eyes_. _She does not like it when they stare)._

 

 

She understands being a Slayer – that term fits the rush of strength, the urge to hunt, the way she seems to move, perceive things, faster than the world around her. ( _Can't hurt me. Not weak anymore. Strong. Slayer._ )

It had never quite covered the rest though - but the word she heard spoken hesitantly today ( _almost as if the speaker was a doctor breaking the news of a terminal illness to a patient_ ) does: _Seer_.

 

 

Because it is what she does, See them when no one else seems to, not even the other girls who are strong like her.

 

 

Dana wishes that were not all, she wants to do more - she wants to _help_ them – but there seems to be nothing she can do but live these moments of their lives, experience it with them. And perhaps that is all that she is meant to be doing, bearing witness. ( _And sometimes Dana wonders if they can feel her right there with them, hopes her presences offers some comfort_.)

 

 

Talk turns to another topic (rising demon population in Singapore) and Dana stands, walking away - her bare feet barely making a sound on the carpeted floors. Still though, she holds her arms tight around her body because part of her understands their concerns. She _has_ been dangerous before - and though she does not ever wish to be considered a danger here ( _does not want to be thought of as a damaged thing to her fellow Slayers_ ) - she cannot say for certain she will never hurt anyone again.

 

Because there are certain moments still so peculiar to even her; when she breathes in the air of one distant world and feels her own lungs expand with it, when her lips will speak someone else’s words – syllables tripping so very naturally off her tongue and startling her with that accent that makes it sound so odd ( _and then realizes it is her own_ ), when she looks in the mirror and does not recognize the person staring back.

 

 

Dana does wish she could keep track of what she looked like though. It would save a lot of broken mirrors – and she fears from the way the people frown that superstitions about mirrors might be true. Why else would he frown so much when she breaks mirrors?

 

 

But despite the others' down-turned lips she does not wish to give it up. There is nothing wrong with these Gifts that she has been given, nothing that needs fixing ( _Dana has never once wished they would go awa_ y). And every day she is given so much through what she sees. Dana has loved and loss so many times, has seen places millions of miles away on worlds different from her own, outside her own time ( _outside her own dimension_ ).

 

 

Why would she ever wish to give up these experiences, give up her link to all of these people? And for what? A chance to be normal – or really, just a half step _closer_ to normal (for even the other Slayer bemoan their differences).

 

 

No, she will not let them take this from her. She does not need fixing.  
  


Her feet have automatically made their way to the kitchen and this makes her smile, Dana likes that she knows this large place well enough to have familiar haunts _(it is almost like having a home_ ).

 

She touches the cool front of the freezer and finds herself saying, "Iorek, dear, I need a weapon.”

_Lyra looked up steadily at the bear, into those steady inhuman eyes she loved, waiting for an answer._

 

_She was beautiful she had learned as she grew older – the rawness of her youth matured into a commanding, elegant, presence that made her parentage apparent to any who had ever met Lord Asriel or Ms. Coulter. It had never mattered before, before when she was first at Jordan when she was young or during that harsh adventure that would feel like a dream if every moment wasn’t so printed into her very being._

 

 

_And with Will it had been about so much between them, they had been so young to have to make those sacrifices that she can still feel the cut of - never dulled the slightest by the knowledge that it was the right thing to do or the hope that they would be together again one day, because he wasn’t here now. And now was when it hurt. Now was when she felt it, sharp and raw. And now was perpetual, every single second, a festering wound, inside of her heart._

 

_Once upon a time, they had fed each other food in the forest. Once upon a time, she had stroked his daemon’s fur and he Pans’. Once upon a time, she could just look up into his face and see him smile at her, see him frown at her, see him roll his eyes in exasperation._

 

_Once upon a time, Will was close enough to touch._

 

_But once upon a times served no purpose – she had never even been a child that cared much for fairy tales and she will not waste her life away crying over him. They made a promise to live and she will stand by it. For him. So, she will hold the memories tight, hold the pain as close and dear to her as the love – because it is him, the only thing she has to connect herself to him here – but she won’t stop moving forward._

 

_But this new thing inside her was honing her differently. Taking that wildness that was always there and making it flare. She was an almost feral child at times in her youth but it is more now. She was unable to stay put in Jordan, felt trapped by the college that had felt like home for so long. Lyra had been glad to escape to the North, a place that can, if not match, echo this place inside of her - happy to live amongst the bears._

_Here, Pan and her have room to run - fast and hard along the snow. And both will get the idea, the urge to hunt something - and they do, it is how they eat these days. This is strange, she does not quite understand, but it is fitting as well because she has the strength to match this new wildness - the speed and reflexes as well._

_What she needs is a weapon - and only one made by Iorek, her best friend (other than Pan of course) will truly do. He is King of the Bears but she thinks if she had gone to anyone else he would have secretly been insulted._

_"I will make one for you, Lyra Silvertongue" he says solemnly, after the long pause. "A sword."_

_She smiles, a thing as harsh as the icy tundra and as beautiful as the aurora, across her face. "Thank you, Iorek."_

 

"Dana?" she doesn't turn, still breathing that sharp cold air in her lungs (still feeling that place in her heart where Will was).

 

"Dana!" it is said louder this time, jars her a bit. That's right, that's her name. She isn't Lyra, she has no Pan or lost Will - there are no panserbjørn here.

 

 

"Are you back? the question is asked gently but there is a wariness to it, a distance - they all keep such distance from her. Don't want to get too close to crazy Dana after all, don't know what she'll do. ( _But she wishes they didn't. She misses it - touch_.)

 

It is the tall girl, the one with brown hair - Dana has seen her in the kitchen before, in the hallways sometimes too, she should know her name ( _but names are so hard to keep when you have a foot in so many worlds_ ).  
  


"I'm here," she whispers and lets her hand drop from the freezer.


	2. part two: fascinating and deep

 

A few days go by ( _at least she thinks they do - it is hard to tell for certain when she does not have specific tasks to do, things to distinguish the days of he week by_ ) when they coax her into seeing a doctor, who she is assured is a friend of the Council ( _whatever that is supposed to mean to her)_ , who has reviewed her case. The lady who Dana appreciates not wearing a lab coat, loses all of her good will when she tries to convince her to take medication to dull the "voices".

 

She even goes so far as to bring "samples". And Dana has been trying desperately hard to be good about this - knows they are doing their best to help her ( _can feel so many eyes watching this interaction_ ) but she can't help it. This is too much.

 

"No," she hisses knocking the containers with the samples out of the ladies hand. "You _will not_ take them from me."

 

The room explodes into action then - there had been one slayer inside with them the entire time anyway and now two others come from right outside the door. One of them quickly escorts the doctor the away and the other two watch her, stances relaxed. _(And she knows that they think - this, this is when the crazy Slayer is going to go all psycho violent on us_.)

 

"Dana?" a man walks through the ajar doorway and his tone is nice ( _in contrast to the looks the others are giving her_ ), concerned she thinks ( _even as it is a little scared_ ). And she does not think he is trying to trick her – she remembers him ( _his face anyway, not his name – and that is something since she cannot remember her own most of the time_ ) as the one who came for her, took her away from the bad place where everything was so very confused. He is the one who brings her food or tracks her down and makes sure she comes to the kitchen most days as well.

 

He looks over at the other two Slayers, notices the threatening way they are standing and frowns at them, shoos them away with a few words and extravagant waves of his hands. It makes her smile.

 

 

So, for him, she takes a deep breath and tries very hard to explain - even though she knows that the words won’t come out right. _(They never come out right._ )

 

 

“I remember them,” she points at the pills – she knows they work the same as the syringes did, the pills came before the needles back in the ward. “Yellow makes you weak. Brown makes you sleepy,” Dana repeats the well remembered words.

 

 

The crinkle between his eyes means that didn't quite make as much sense to him, but he makes an attempt to communicate as well. “We’re trying to make it better, Dana,” he says eyes so worried.

 

 

"Make what better?" she asks, even though she knows _(listened in at a doorway like a bad girl does._ )

 

 

He bites his lip as if he is not supposed to say – as if Seer is a dirty word.

 

Dana becomes a bit distracted then, walks up to him and wonders if she could touch his hair - he is not so tall and it is so blonde and spikey, it wouldn't be hard. Then realizes abruptly that something must have skipped in her brain again and that she actually _is_ , very slowly she removes her hand. He has gone very still – Dana can tell she is scaring him. He is like a rabbit, wanting to bolt but afraid it will only encourage a predator to chase it.

 

 

"I know you," she says hoping to soothe him but she thinks it probably only sounds creepy instead.

 

 

"Yes, I’m Andrew," he replies sounding uncomfortable and part of her brain tries desperately to make a grab for that name while most of her knows it will just slip through again. "I bring you food – you need me for food," he babbles.

 

 

She laughs at this and he flinches at first but then his shoulders relax slightly when he recognizes what the abrupt sound actually was, his lips curling into a slight smile as well.

 

 

"I’m sorry," she says, taking a distinct step away from him. And for once it is the right words.

 

 

"Dana," he reaches out the distance, and after only a moments hesitance, gently and touches her shoulder. She leans in to it encouragingly, making him smile in bemusement, before his face becomes serious again. “What’s wrong?”

 

 

"You brought me here from the place that was loud," no - that's not right. Not _loud_ , that is the wrong word, it makes her frown but Dana tries to continues anyway and not get caught up searching for the right one. "It hurt me there, made me confused. You brought me _here_ and now I'm not doing what you want," she looked down at the pills and her gaze hardened. "I will not let you take them."

 

 

"Take them?" Andrew asked. "You said that before."

 

 

"The people – that I See," she said - wasn't that obvious?

 

 

But apparently it wasn't, Andrew let out a slow surprised breath. "Oh - oh wow," he muttered to himself. "You _want_ to See?" he said in surprise. It was both a statement and a question, a revelation that he did not quite believe yet.

 

 

"Of course," Dana said simply, "they are mine to watch over."

 

 

He only blinks at her then.

 

"No one, but the doctors, has touched my body since my parents were murdered," she blurted (she doesn't count the fights as touching really), very aware of the hand still on her shoulder. And Dana realized instantly by the look upon his face that this was one of things that did not exit her mouth correctly. (He tries to very subtly (and ending up, not at all) take his hand away again. But she did not know how to explain it – because she almost felt like she _has_ experienced touch, only in a distant second hand manner.

 

 

Has had relationships fascinating and deep (has known the taste of a lover first thing in the morning, _her pale hands fisted in red hair as his hands travel teasingly slow on her skin making her growl against his lips. But Wally only chuckled, "What's the rush, Jinx?"_ The feel of a child kicking inside of her; _she feels more amused than she should to make him do this. "Do you feel that, John? she asks keeping his hands in place firmly on her stomach with her own. And it takes a moment but then his eyes light up with wonder. He smiles at her, that rare smile, before yelling over his shoulder, "Get over here Rodney."_ Power at her fingertips, _she slams the cabinet door closed and before she has spun around both of her fits have ignited with green flames. "Dr. D, if you ate all of my chocolate stash, you are so dead!" she yells through the lair._ ) that she doubts she will ever experience in her true form.

 

But does want _something_ in this body as well. Does not like how people flinch away from her. Would like someone who would hug her sometimes when she is sad or touch her arm casually when they talk. She wants people to interact with her like she is a person and not a feral animal that might attack them at any given moment.

 

 

 

"Sorry," she says again, holding her arms about herself tight and walks out of the room, being sure to give the blonde man wide berth. He watches her leave but does not stop her.


	3. part three: come and go

_Susan the Gentle._

 

_Orius feels an internal flinch every time he hears the monicker - the pain of it even more acute now that they are all gone. It is the lie of it that disturbs him, the history that is being rewritten every time someone refers to the eldest Queen._

 

_They would never call Susan that if they had ever had the honor of seeing her fight without her bow._

 

_Or perhaps they would, if they truly understood. For even in those moments, she held some of that serenity she was known for. A smile on her lips gentle, as transfixing and beguiling as any she would give to a courtier on the dance floor, as she bestows upon them this last gift. As she swiftly ends the life of any who dare threaten her Narnia._

 

"Dana?" she hears making her turn her head sharply and only then does she realize that today she had found herself on all fours in the garden - and people are staring again. ( _She wishes they wouldn't stare like that._ )

 

"Oh, don't pay attention to them," the voice - a woman with wavy brown hair and warm brown eyes behind glasses, who is crouched down beside her - says and glares at the ones who are whispering, "They're just meanie heads. I used ta play pony all the time in Texas when I was little. Heck, Momma called me Winnie for a long while."

 

"I-," Dana starts to try to explain but gets sidetracked when she recognizes the woman - well, not at all really. But Dana has heard talk about their group coming and that smell on her ( _leather and smoke_ ), she would never forget it. "You're with the vampires group," Dana said, and then frowned at herself. She _should_ have said a greeting firsts, something at least a bit normal. If she wished to be treated like a person and not an animal she needed to act like one.

 

"Hello," she blurted quickly, before any response could be given to her previous statement - but that wasn't right. Now everything was all out of order, all wrong.

 

But the woman just smiled, staying crouched beside her. "Hello. And to answer your question - yes."

 

"Sorry," Dana said quickly, this was something she could say (and it actually fit the occasion). She wanted to explain more - tell her how very confused she had been as the drugs where bleeding out of her system. That first breath of fresh air outside the ward, how nothing seemed singular, everything layered on top of itself until she could not distinguish anything quite right.

 

But the older woman's smile just turned sad and she held out her hand. "I'm, Fred."

 

Dana stared at it a long time before she understood that she was supposed to shake it, and did so solemnly when she realized this.

 

"Dana," she said in return, happiness jumping high in her, hoping she was not reading this wrong. But this felt like a clean slate, like someone offering friendship.

 

"Why?" she whispered, before she could stop herself and then whimpered when she realised she had said it out loud.

 

But Fred seemed to understand what she wanted to know. "Oh, Dana. If I kept grudges against every person who tried to maim or kill my friends and me, I wouldn't have any friends left."

 

At this Dana spontaneously hugged her - and then pulled back right away expecting that flinch. But although Fred was clearly startled by her quick movement, once she realized she was being embraced, she hugged her right back, and held her tighter when she tried to move away so soon.

 

"Your justa jumble, aren't ya?" she said sadly.

 

Dana just nodded against her shoulder, staring at the way her hair waved - her's did that a bit too she thought, but Fred's was lighter, it caught the sun more. She gave a big sigh of contentment - she wanted to stay like this as long as she might be allowed, it was warm in the garden and she felt safe.

 

"What were ya doing out here anyway, Dana? Don't ya have a Watcher?" Fred asked, curiously.

 

"So many Slayers," she murmured, in an almost sleepy tone, "and I'm not necessary - can't go out in the field, not dependable in a fight," the other woman made a disgruntled sound at this. "You -," Dana said feeling inspired, springing up from the comfort ( _and missing it instantly_ ), "you could Watch me."

 

"Honey," Fred said sadly, 'I'm not quite right in the head - and my body ain't what you'd call the best at the moment either. I was just let go from a demon possesion. Huh," she snorted, "that makes it sound like Illyria fired me."

 

Dana just stared at her - and after a beat Fred understood the irony of her statement, she burst into giggles, her hand going to her face trying to stop herself. "That's right. You've got a touch of crazy yourself don't ya?"

 

"I'm not crazy," Dana said, crossing her arms and was afraid it came out rather poutily.

 

"Aw, don't let it get you down," Fred said grabbing her hand casually and holding it in support. "I've just learned to accept it - mine seems to come and go every few years. Got pretty bad when I was writing on cave walls in Pylea  and I seem to be dipping in and out of it now that they've separated me from Illyria. Hard to get things back to linear in the noggin after you've been possessed by a God King for a spell, ya know,."

 

All of this was stated in an oddly light heated tone - and Dana only understood about a third - but she was smiling just the same. And Dana was sure she could convince Fred to be her Watcher by the time the blonde haired man tracked her down for dinner.


	4. part four: so much brighter

The meeting is supposed to be serious (she knows by the way blonde slayer links her hands together on the table in front of a stack of papers - even though brunette slayer is slumped in her chair with a smirk on her red lips) but the presence of the two highest ranking slayers sitting in front of her makes her want to giggle.

 

"We hear that you don't want any help with your visions," the blonde one starts. "That you got angry at Dr. Isabelle."

 

"No pills," she says with a hard voice, merriment gone. “Yellow makes you weak. Brown makes you sleepy.”

 

The woman starts to reply but the brunette sits up, says, "B, it's her choice."

 

And her fellow Chosen Slayer gives a tired sigh, shuffles to another sheet instead. "A Watcher," she says, smiling and there is actual happiness in her expression now. "You've found one?"

 

"I want Fred," Dana says promptly, and links her hands together mimicking the other woman. (Brunnette slayer notices and raises an eyebrow at her. She mimicks this as well making her snort.)

 

"Do you know that she....," the blonde slayer bites her lip, looking for the right words.

 

"Had a demon shacked up in her body for awhile," the other finishes the sentence much more bluntly.

 

"Illyria was a God-King," Dana corrects and is pleased by their surprise _(she had tried so hard to remember - to keep that information, not let it slide away when yesterday evening she was a witch with a twin sister. They had met up at their usual spot, just past the library, when the coin had vibrated. Together sneaking down to the seventh floor - walking past the plain bit of wall three times until a door appeared_ ).

 

"Well," the papers were shuffled once more but the blonde slayers face finally could not contain a full out beaming smile ( _she was transformed like that, so much brighter without all the worry weighing her down_ ), "since Fred has already agreed. I think it is a good match. On probation of course," she warned.

  
"Fred-,' Dana couldn't get the words out. She had already said yes? When she had asked repeatedly, the other woman would always deflect. She had become afraid that Fred truly did not want to.

 

"But you still won't be able to leave Council Headquarters without another person _or_ patrol without another Slayer," she continued talking as if Dana hadn't said anything.

 

Dana bit her lip then trying desperately for the name, her face screwed up in concentration - so they waited for her to figure it out. "Andrew!" she yelled making the other two startle but Dana was much to happy with herself for actually remembering to worry about that.

 

"Holy shit," the brunette muttered rubbing her ear and the blonde hit her in the shoulder absentmindedly (without even glancing over), which, of course was met with a swift response of a kick under the table (and Dana did end up breaking into those giggles.)

 

But at least after the slight bit of confusion they understood. "Yes, Andrew can be the one that goes with the two of you, if you choose to go somewhere outside Council HQ. But if you want to patrol, take another Slayer," the blonde warned again; her stern face abrubtly bloomed back into that smile agian. "Congratulations, Dana. I'm happy for you - I think this is a very good thing." And with that she gathered her pappers and they both got up to leave.

 

But before she was gone brunette slayer said, "Hey, Dana. Whenever I'm in town, I'll patrol with you, alright?" And then her smirk turned into something both happy and sad. "And Congrats on the Watcher. Treat her right, yo."

 

"We're both a jumble," Dana said in response, using Fred's words (she didn't think her Watcher would mind - and Dana very much liked the sound of that _her_ Watcher), "and I think that is why we fit."'

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimers: I do not own any of these characters. Joss Whedon own AtS and BtVS. Phillip Pullman wrote the "His Dark Material Series", Teen Titans belongs to DC, SGA belongs to Brad Wright and Robert C. Cooper, Kim Possible belongs to Mark McCorkle and Robert Schooley, "The Chronicles of Narnia" are by C.S. Lewis, and the Harry Potter Series is by J. K. Rowling.


End file.
